


one chance

by incoherent__screaming



Series: the tale of two brothers (and some more) [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brother/Brother Incest, House Party, Incest, M/M, Making Out, Short One Shot, Sibling Incest, Tony Stark (mentioned) - Freeform, how could i forget that, i am truly reaching for the mf STARS, loki is a depressed shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incoherent__screaming/pseuds/incoherent__screaming
Summary: The first time he kisses Thor is on a hot summer night.(Or, the beginning of a grand mistake.)
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Series: the tale of two brothers (and some more) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861240
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	one chance

The first time he kisses Thor is on a hot summer night.

The air is sweltering and humid at the party Tony Stark was throwing. Loki isn’t invited, not technically, but a Stark party is an open invitation to everyone, so Thor (who, unlike Loki, had a proper invitation from Stark, because of course he did) decided to drag him along.

High school parties don’t appeal to him, they never did. He hasn’t got anyone to talk with, or dance with, or get high with, not even someone who can fuck him, or someone to fuck with. Which is how Loki ended up here: on a couch, between chattering girls with glossy lipstick that’ll be smeared off some jock’s face by the time the night ends, red solo cup in hand. His stupid, stupid brother nowhere to be found.

He tells himself not to drink from the cup, but it only takes so long for him to take a sip out of boredom or curiosity, and another, until he’s downing the whole thing anyways. He tells himself alcohol at a high school party can’t be too strong. The bitter tang lights a bonfire in his throat, reminding him of bile among other unpleasant things, things that can’t be knocked into the back of his mind like the drink.

_(In hindsight, sometimes Loki wonders if it was something else that made him drink the alcohol. Something other than sheer boredom and curiosity—something more, something riddled with guilt and fear and desperation, sparked by his own damn cowardice.)_

The party is in full swing now, and so is the booze. Maybe it’s stronger than Loki estimated after all; it clouds his vision, his mind, his judgement against all things logical.

The loud crowds are a think blur of color swirling and melting together. Loki feels like he’s melting too, inhibitions fading by the second. He tries to stand up from the couch and fails twice, the girls tugging him by the hem of his T-shirt. Was he having a conversation with them?

He wants to leave this party, this mess, this everything behind. But he can’t, not without Thor, because Thor drove him to the party and he can’t leave without Thor driving him back home. He has to follow Thor even when he wants to go away from everyone else. _Fuck Thor, fuck him and his stupid car and his stupid friends and his stupid everything._

Stumbling through people pushing him left and right, Loki makes his way through the sweaty loud teenagers. The hot air is hanging lower and thicker than ever, making him sick with nausea, and he briefly regrets leaving the air-conditioned house. His directions are confused and unclear; he can’t tell this way from that, except he knows the way to Thor like it’s a burning trail seared into his heart, because the next thing he sees is Thor’s hand up a girl’s shirt with hers down his pants.

Momentarily struck by clarity, but not enough, Loki clears his throat more unsophisticated than he’d like to admit, shaking the pair out of their arousal. They don’t look more ashamed than he feels now, and it feels wrong, wrong, wrong, because Loki doesn’t ever want to feel like he should be ashamed, especially not next to Thor.

_(Except he should, because Thor is better than him, a better son and a better brother, a better student and a better athlete, and most of all a better person, and Loki can’t ever wish to be on Thor’s level, to stop standing in his shadow, because he’ll never have the chance to.)_

At least he has the decency to stop playing tonsil hockey with the girl and to push her away. She has brown eyes, he can see them now. She sees him too, and falters for a second, maybe recognizing him as Thor’s deadbeat brother, before turning away with those Bambi eyes and a flushed face to God knows where. Why does her eyes blink brighter than the overhead party lights?

“What have you come for?” Thor asks Loki. Mild annoyance seeps through his voice, though he’s trying his best to contain it. It mustn’t be fun to be cockblocked by your own brother, Loki thinks distantly as he approaches Thor.

 _You,_ he wants to say, _I’ve come for you._

Instead he asks, “Was she a good kisser?”

His voice sounds like someone else is saying the words, like he’s an outsider, watching this unfurl, almost certain this will crash into a disaster.

It doesn’t matter; he’s always been the outsider anyways.

Thor doesn’t answer him. “You’ve been drinking,” he murmurs, an uncertain statement. Loki takes another step closer to Thor and scoffs in his face. “So what if I have?”

Another step. Thor tries to back away and hits the wall instead.

“Father will be mad. At both of us.”

Loki halts, processing what Thor just said, and a smile slowly splits his face, until he’s clutching at his waist and wheezing like a lunatic, gasping for the suffocating humid air. “That’s a nice joke, Thor. Tell me another one, why don’t you?”

His electric blue eyes stare right back at him, and for a second makes Loki regret his carelessness. They shouldn’t make his stomach flip and send shivers down his spine, but it does and all Loki can think is, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me._

“You don’t mean it,” says Thor.

Loki’s lips tremble. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“I’m serious. You won’t be fucking laughing when Father grounds us both for a month if he realizes you’re wasted. I promised to look after you, for fuck’s sake, Loki, act responsible!”

And that’s when something in Loki snaps, and his fists find Thor’s shirt collar, his grip on them so tight the immaculate fabric is ruined.

“You’re going to lecture me and tell me to act responsible? What makes you think you have that right? Oh, just because you’re Thor, the shining golden boy everyone wants to either _be_ , or wants to _have_ , you think you have a say in what I can and can’t do?”

“Loki, what the _fuck, calm down—_ "

Loki’s close enough to see each golden lash on his eyes, close enough to feel every breath on his face. “No, fuck you, Thor, because I won’t be letting you tell me what I’m allowed to do, or allowed to say, _ever!_ Don’t you ever—dare—think that you can control me. Because you _can’t_. You never will.

So what if kissing Thor isn’t the smartest way to prove it? He can feel hot tears of sorrow, of fear, of shame streaming down his face, every move he makes against Thor’s crushing lips is a tug on his heartstrings, any shred of inhibition crumbling away with each guilty push and filthy groan on their lips, until Thor pushes him away, both of them panting like mutts in heat.

Loki’s heart beats in tune with the pounding music coming from the party inside, and for the first time in his life he has no idea what to do. Thor is glaring at him, with those blue eyes, and Loki wants to drown in them and never wake up. They let their heavy breaths speak for them, speaking something louder than words even can, and Thor finally says, “We should go home.”

And that’s when the reality prickles harshly in Loki’s eyes and pangs dully in his heart, and his mind is brimming with a thousand questions and a million confessions, threatening to spill out, but all that comes out is “Fine”.

 _What other option there is other than fine?_ he thinks, cold glass bumping against his burning forehead on the drive back home. Loki will always have to be the one who follows Thor, because how can he not when he can’t pick himself back home after a party, can’t pick his heart up after giving into the one thing he never should have?

It was a mistake, all of it. Bad decisions, alcohol, loud music, sweating air.

Loki was never known for not making mistakes anyways.

x

_When the Sun hangs high in the afternoon sky the next day, he’s hit by a wave of nausea and Loki hurls his guts out in a toilet, and in the midst of awful sickness and dizzy pain, he knows it, crystal clear._

It was no mistake, none of it. 

_He can’t stop thinking about the way Thor’s lips locked around his own like it was a one-time chance._

**Author's Note:**

> might fuck around and make a series??? hm???? 
> 
> update: IT'S A SERIES NOW
> 
> please leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed it ilyily
> 
> -inco
> 
> p.s i don't actually ship thorki, and i do not endorse incest of any form.


End file.
